


Personal Firecracker.

by pixcat



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bumbleby - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, Fourth of July, absurdly late but YOU KNOW WHAT, also ambiguous white rose, there is no smut I am sorry, two queer kids sittin on a beach watchin fireworks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7799284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixcat/pseuds/pixcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Fourth of July, and Team RWBY is at a local park celebration, waiting for the fireworks to start. Blake and Yang go off for refreshments and instead decide to split off from the crowds to watch the show a bit more privately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Firecracker.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in AGES despite my absolutely overflowing Google Drive. This is also nearly a month and a half AFTER the 4th of July, but time is an illusion. Not really sure if I'm making this a part of my RWBY College AU collection or not? We'll see.

The sun was clinging to the lower portion of the visible sky, just getting low enough in the sky for a slight crispness to enter the air. Weiss was repressing the urge to shift uncomfortably from her position on the spread of blankets, instead letting her discomfort out by swiping mosquitoes (that may or may not have really been there) away with languid swipes of her hand. Ruby sat next to her, completely content and munching away at her personal stash of the cookies the four of them had made that day. Zwei was curled up at the corner of the blanket, gnawing on a chewbone shaped like an exploding firework. Blake had bought it for him. 

Blake and Yang had weaved through the sea of picnic blankets and vendors on a run for drinks for themselves and “any form of bug-repellent” for Weiss on the other side of the park. By the time their people-watching meander lead them to the beer tent, the line looked mortifying. Yang halted, hands on her hips, and swiveled her body toward Blake, a single eyebrow raised. “Well, looks like this would take us well into the show to get through.” 

“You think?” Blake paused for a moment. “I bet if we come back just as the show is starting, the line will all be gone. Waiting would just be a waste of time.” 

Yang feigned distress. “But, Blake, it’s impossible to enjoy Independence Day without alcohol.” 

Amber eyes glinted back at her beneath its finely-done brow. Blake took the half step towards Yang, wrapping loose arms around her hips and crossing her wrists behind Yang’s back. Yang’s eyelids fluttered shut, an amused smile (at herself and Blake’s inability to think of a comeback besides this) on her lips moments before Blake’s were. Three quick, simple, chaste kisses, as much contact as air between them, before Blake pulled back. 

Looking up at Yang, she rubbed her own hands up and down Yang’s biceps -- one soft and warm, the other cool and glinting in the moonlight and scatterings of light around the park. “Wanna go find a quieter spot to watch the show?” 

“What about Weiss’ war against the mosquitos? She’s counting on us to save her.” Yang crossed her arms, smile still on her face and Blake’s arms still around her waist. 

“Zwei smells so bad, they’re all either avoiding him or going directly to him.” Yang couldn’t get enough of the glimmer of Blake’s eyes, how their amber seemed to be capturing all the ambers and golds and neons of the lights around them. “Who knew a giant pest would be the best solution to smaller ones.”  

Yang offered Blake her left hand, which Blake took in her right before leading the two of them towards the edge of the lake the fireworks were shot over, into the swatch of trees between the grass and the beach area. With lots of shuffling, and some apologetic waves to other people doing the same thing as them, Blake located a fallen log just on the sandy side of the border between musty green forest and cool beach sand. 

Another couple’s crashing through the underbrush caused Blake to jump, her ears swiveling backward at the sound followed by a quick glance over her shoulder. The couple swerved in a different direction as Blake felt Yang’s arm wrap around her shoulder and tug her close. She let herself lean into the crook of Yang’s neck, surrounded by Yang’s warmth and citrus-and-cinnamon perfume. 

The beach in front of them was refreshingly shadowed in contrast to the slew of lampposts, carnival rides, phone lights, and brightly-lit vendor tents of the grassy park behind and above them. Yang enjoyed that atmosphere more than Blake did. Blake could appreciate it in small doses, and always appreciate seeing Yang in her element, surrounded by things as lively as she was. But this was a scene straight from Blake’s dreams.

Still and quiet, the sand glowed in the moonlight. Blake could see the ruins of a sandcastle some ways off, but this stretch mostly appeared to be trails of footsteps having kicked and dragged smooth winding trails in the sand. She buried her toes in the cool sand in front of her, imagining what it must feel like further out, where there was less forest litter and more actual sand. 

Past the still sand was the pitch expanse of the lake, darkness interrupted only by the glimmer of the moon in the sky. The lake was mostly still, considering the only wind stirring the cool air of July at night was mostly just a gentle caress. Blake enjoyed this weather the most, the air’s nighttime respite from the scorching July sun paired with what would be quiet anywhere else, but on the beach she could hear the muted thrum of the events up the hill. It was a brief sweater weather holiday in the season of flowy tank tops and short shorts. 

Blake pulled away from Yang -- who groaned lightly in complaint -- to remove her flannel and tie it around her waist, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek as she returned. Yang hummed what Blake assumed would have been a “welcome back” and Blake hummed her response back. 

They sat like that for barely a moment before the first firework was launched. Without the trees and noise of other people to buffer sound, they could hear the sound of the cannon spread across the lake. It lapped up the shore as the firework shot up into the sky, the loudest explosion Blake or Yang had ever heard. The golden amber sparks expanded like lungs in the sky, thrumming reverberations echoing through their own chests and bodies.

Blake couldn’t help but think of the saying that kissing one’s partner should feel like fireworks, and thought of Yang and all of her literal and metaphorical fire. Yang, to her, was more than just the fireworks. Yang was also the cool summer breeze, the protective solitude wherever she went. The strong and warm arms, a strong heartbeat, a communicative forehead kiss. 

But, staring up at the fireworks, Blake was absolutely going to think about her girlfriend as her own personal firecracker.

Yang started to point out different shapes she thought she saw in the fireworks, the rumbles of her voice lighter than those of the fireworks, stirring Blake from her thoughts. 

“Look, it’s a Pokeball!” Yang pointed with her right arm, the fireworks glinting off the black and gold metal as much as they did off the black lake. “And that one was totally a cat, did you see it?” 

“How was it a cat? I think you’re just biased.” Blake tilted her head and flicked an ear so it tickled against Yang’s cheek. 

“The green bits of the streaky one were the ears, and the purple round one was it’s face, and the little pink one was its mouth, clearly,” Yang answered, still staring up at the sky.  

“Okay,” Blake nodded. “I believe you.” 

A moment of comfortable silence later, Yang asked, “Did you see that one? It looked like something, I’m not sure what it was.” 

“A Christmas Tree, but round.” 

“YES!” Yang’s cheer was an excited whisper. “Genius!” 

The noise and the flashing of the finale was almost too much for Blake and her ears. Making the connection in her head and feeling her heart start to race at the overstimulation, Blake decided to do what Yang had taught her to do at concerts. She started to focus on Yang’s face, seeing the flares from the fireworks dance across Yang’s face, in the glimmer of her big lilac eyes.

Partially through the chaos at the end, Yang glanced down at Blake, who was still staring back up at her. Blake, rather than look away bashfully, blinked and smiled, holding their eyes together. Before Blake could move, Yang planted a quiet kiss between her faunus ears, keeping her lips there for a moment before pulling away and rubbing her hand across Blake’s shoulder. 

The fireworks ended, and neither of them wanted to move. Neither of them felt the prickliness of the log’s bark anymore, too caught in the warmth of each other, relishing in the contrast between their shared warmth and the cool of the air around them. Without the fireworks in the sky, the scene ahead of them had returned to its lunar glow, and Blake sighed. 

“Sorry, Blake,” Yang’s voice was confusingly flat and dull, but Blake waited patiently to hear the rest of what she had to say, anticipating a prank. “I think I’ve fallen in love with this lake, and the moon. We’re all in love, I have to let you go.” 

Blake stifled a laugh, letting it rumble around in her chest and tug her lips to the side. “They didn’t tell you? The three of us are already in a committed relationship. Sorry to break it to you.” 

Yang, however, did not stifle her laugh. “Guess we’ll just have to come back here more often then, huh.” 


End file.
